Chapter 3

Katarina POV:

The sight of them together, so public and shameless, felt like a physical blow. The air in the penthouse grew thick and suffocating. My carefully constructed composure began to fray. I needed to escape before I shattered in front of everyone.

"I need some air," I murmured to the nearest Capo's wife, and fled toward the private wing of the apartment.

I ducked into a small sitting room, pressing my forehead against the cool glass of the window, trying to breathe. The hallway adjacent to the room was dimly lit. Footsteps and low voices approached. I froze. It was Alex and Aria.

I shrank back into the shadows, my heart pounding against my ribs. I saw them, silhouetted against a sliver of light from the main party. He had her pressed against the wall. His mouth was on hers, a desperate, hungry kiss that was nothing like the chaste pecks he gave me for the cameras.

"You feel so real," he groaned against her lips, his voice thick with a passion he had never shown me. "She's just... a perfect, cold sculpture."

A sculpture. That's all I was to him.

"You'll be good for me, won't you?" he murmured, his hand sliding down her arm. "I'll get you that Cartier bracelet you wanted. The one with the diamonds. Just be a good girl."

He was buying her compliance, treating her like a high-end toy. The transaction was clear.

My blood turned to ice. I took a deep, steadying breath and walked back into the party, my mask of serene perfection firmly in place. I found Aria standing near the bar, a triumphant smirk on her face. A dark, angry mark-a kiss-was visible on the side of her neck. A brand of his ownership, displayed for me to see.

Then, she saw me. Her eyes narrowed, and with a boldness that stunned me, she walked right up to me. In front of three of Alex's most loyal Capos and their soldiers, she held out her empty glass.

"Get me another drink," she said, her voice dripping with contempt. It was a public challenge. A whore demanding service from the queen.

The Capos stiffened. This was an unforgivable breach of protocol. A direct insult to the Underboss's wife.

I stared at her, my expression unreadable. I didn't move.

A flash of panic crossed her face. She hadn't expected my silent refusal. She took a clumsy step backward, bumping into the towering champagne fountain that was the centerpiece of the party.

The tower of crystal glasses swayed for a horrifying second before collapsing in a deafening crash. Champagne and shards of glass erupted across the floor. I tried to step back, but a wave of sticky liquid and sharp projectiles flew towards me. A piece of glass sliced across my arm, and the shock of it sent me stumbling to the floor.

Pain shot up my arm, but it was nothing compared to the agony that followed.

Alex, who was across the room, didn't even glance at me. His eyes were locked on Aria. He shoved people out of his way, a guttural roar in his chest, and threw himself in front of her, shielding her with his own body from the falling glass.

He protected her.

In front of his entire family, his soldiers, his rivals, he chose his mistress over his wife. He left me bleeding on the floor while he cradled her in his arms, his voice frantic. "Are you okay? Did you get hurt?"

My dignity lay shattered on the floor along with the crystal. I was nothing.

I picked myself up, ignoring the hands that reached out to help me. I walked out of the party, blood dripping from my arm onto the white marble floor. I drove myself, once again, to the family's clinic.

As a nurse bandaged my wound, I saw him through the glass of a private room down the hall. Alex was there, hovering over Aria, who was reclining on a bed with a dramatic look of distress. He was stroking her hair, his expression full of a tender concern he had never, not once, shown me.

He had made his choice. I was no longer just a pawn; I was a liability. An obstacle to be removed. Donato's "purification" plan wasn't just an escape anymore. It was my survival. I would no longer be the caged canary of the De Luca family.

I left the clinic and went back to the empty, silent penthouse. The pain in my arm was a dull throb, but in my chest, a cold fire had been lit. It wasn't the fire of passion Alex so craved.

It was the fire of vengeance.